Planting New Memories
by mrsaturtle
Summary: **ONE-SHOT** Hermione is still broken after the war, can she start to repair herself with her fingers in the soil and an old friend who could be more? Trigger Warning: PTSD & Anxiety


**_Planting New Memories..._**

 _One shot inspired by the aesthetic created by Missyn83 for the wordsmiths & betas aesthetic writing challenge._

 **I do not own Harry Potter, I make no money off of this story.**

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 _I would like to dedicate this story to the many women who suffer with PTSD and anxiety, who have survived tragedy and trauma and who show each day just how strong and capable they are._

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 **A/N: This story covers topics of PTSD/Anxiety, please we aware of this before reading!**

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Hermione curled into the oversized armchair in which she currently found herself. The chair was strategically placed up against a wall, where she could see the whole of the room. Even in the lateness of the hour, the room was currently bathed in light from the flicker of the fireplace, lit candles, and the jars of bluebell flame she loved. Crookshanks purred at her feet, trying to comfort his stressed owner.

"My name is Hermione Granger. I'm twenty-one. I live in Keswick, England. I survived the Second Wizarding War," she repeated three times, slowing her breathing, while trying to ward off the impending anxiety attack.

Her heart pounded, breathing was erratic, and her muscles tensed as she curled deeper into the chair, her mind replaying memories of the war. The noise of the storm overwhelmed her hearing, which made the memories, playing through her mind, sound more real. The only things missing were the smell of blood, and the adrenaline coursing through her system.

She repeated the list of things she knew four more times, and slowly her legs began to relax, as she became less tense. Crookshanks remained at the floor, but watched her intently. After a few more minutes, he was in her arms. She held him tightly, seeking the comfort of another living being.

She was still breathing steadily, arms tight around Crooks, when the fire opposite her whirled to life with emerald flames. Out walked Pansy Parkinson.

Pansy looked around the room before her eyes fell on the brunette witch; tear tracks etched onto Hermione's cheeks, posture tense and alert, her breathing slightly uneven. Pansy's healer instincts kicked in, and she found herself kneeling before her friend.

"Did you have another panic attack?" Pansy asked, her voice low and soothing.

"The storm," Hermione stated simply while nodding towards the windows.

"Oh bollocks! It's not storming in London," Pansy put her parcel down and folded Hermione in a warm hug. She had lost count the number of times someone had discovered Hermione in a state of panic and anxiety. Some were worse than others, but Hermione had clearly tried to deal with this one on her own. It was still early April, a month before the anniversary, so they hadn't yet taken the necessary steps to prepare for this time of year. She sighed, still hugging her best friend.

Pansy's friendship with Hermione Granger was one of the most unlikely consequences of the end of the Second Wizarding War. Pansy had emerged from the dungeons after the Battle of Hogwarts to see so many of their classmates dead or grieving. The hours she had been locked in the dungeons with the rest of her house, had been the most agonizing of her life. All the Slytherins could hear the battle going on around them, and all she could do was relive pointing out Harry Potter to the crowd in hope of saving her own skin. In her first moments back in the great hall, she had rushed forward, helping to bandage anyone and everyone she could reach. She eventually found herself in front of Ron Weasley, deep cuts on his arms and a nasty one on his head. She had set about fixing him, while he had cried, staring in the direction of his dead brother. She was floored by the love he showed for a sibling. She watched the whole Weasley family that day as they grieved, her heart breaking. Her own parents hadn't even shown up at the school the next day to check on her welfare; They were too busy avoiding the consequences of the end of the war.

Her friendship and eventual relationship with Ron Weasley had grown quickly, especially when she saw the brokenness of his best friend- the once scary and incredible witch that was Hermione Granger. As Pansy trained to become a healer, she would often use what she learned to try to help Hermione.

"Here, why don't we pack up some clothes, and Crooks, and take you to Harry's? I'd invite you to our's, but it's mess with Charlie in town," Pansy chuckled while rubbing Hermione's back.

She felt the brunette nod. While keeping an arm around her, they walked to Hermione's bedroom.

Thirty minutes later, they were walking through the fire at Grimmauld Place.

"Potter!" Pansy called up the stairs.

"Which one?" a voice called from a floor up.

Pansy smirked, and looked at Hermione. Some of the color had returned to her cheeks although Hermione had already taken a seat at the big kitchen table, again pulling her legs up to her chest.

There was a small bang, and then someone yelled, "Bollocks!" Thirty seconds later a rush of red hair swept into the room.

Ginny Potter had her hands full of what looked like potion ingredients, "I swear that wizard never picks up his stuff. Lacewing flies are all over the hallway!" she complained while setting the bottles down on the table. Looking up she met eyes with Pansy, who nodded towards Hermione. "Oh 'Mione," the redhead rushed over, and sat down beside her.

"What happened?" Ginny asked, running a hand through Hermione's curls.

"I found her in the library like this- it was storming," Pansy explained.

Ginny understood, "Oh, I'm so sorry. It's not storming here. Stay the night 'Mione."

"Ok," Hermione said softly.

 **oOoOoOo**

As Hermione drifted off to sleep she remembered her first panic attack…

It had been four months after the Battle, and she had Apparated into the Ministry to pick up some paperwork. She was immediately awash with memories of: Yaxley chasing them through the lobby, Ron being splinched, and being on the run. Her mind froze and her body reacted. She Apparated to a forest, one they had been to while on the run. Her legs started moving and she began running. She had no idea how far she ran, or for how long. Her mind was focused on the threat that was surely behind her, ready to strike.

She found herself at an abandoned old house. Ivy and weeds grew up the walls, the windows all were either boarded up or broken. She worked her way through more weeds and sat down in the corner, of a large room, she could only assume was the great room. She always found comfort in the protection that corners provided. Her wand remained clutched tightly in her hand, she jumped at the smallest of sounds.

It was dark before her body relaxed, and she was exhausted and felt feverish. She didn't have the energy to Apparate again, instead she summoned her Patronus otter and sent it to Harry.

He showed up, looking stressed and disheveled himself, minutes later. Harry was as close to a brother as she thought possible, and his presence immediately calmed her. He held her as the tears began.

When she calmed, Harry Apparated her side-along to the Burrow, where Molly fed her and took care of her for three weeks. When she felt strong enough again, Hermione Apparated back to that forest, and after an afternoon found the same house that looked as broken and empty as she felt.

The next month she bought the broken, lonely house. It took the entirety of two years before it could really be called a home. Nestled into the forest, it offered her plenty of privacy. The woods offered her the peace and quiet she needed, but still, she found herself regularly at Grimmauld Place, The Burrow, or Ron's new home with Pansy.

 **oOoOoOo**

Hermione returned home in early June after staying with Harry and Ginny for almost two months. After weekly visits with a healer at St. Mungo's, she felt up to returning home. She continued, though, to see the Post Trauma specialist of the war.

Her healer Dr. Jamie Fraiser, had suggested she find a hobby, something to keep her busy. He said books were great for escaping the world you're in, but he wanted her to cope in the real world, not constantly escaping. He also wanted her out in the sunshine. There were many sports, even Muggle ones that she could do, he had recommend. She had asked him if doing Arithmancy or Potions was acceptable, and he chuckled explaining about Vitamin D, but also her need to not be inside her head so much.

So she settled on gardening. She would start with normal plants and have a small vegetable garden. As her skills developed, she would slowly work towards magical plants. Dr. Frasier was very optimistic about her choice, and immediately set her to the task of planning for her garden.

That evening at Grimmauld Place, as she explained her plan to garden to her four friends and George (who frequented relatives' homes, about as much as she did) she was feeling very hopeful about her new hobby, and wanted to start working straight away.

By the time her next appointment with Dr. Jamie rolled around: she had drawn up a plan for the placement of specific plants, ordered seeds, and had a large supply of dragon fertilizer delivered to her house.

 **oOoOoOo**

It had been 3 weeks since she had started gardening. She had buckets of potatoes growing, tomatoes starting to reach towards the sun, and blooms of flowers only an inch tall. She had been worried about starting so late in the season, when Harry reminded her that she was in fact a witch, and could help this process along.

The first weekend found the five friends sweating while putting together a "build-it-yourself" greenhouse kit. Once the boys had left to go grab some more butterbeers, the girls were actually able to put it together without the walls falling down.

She made quick wand work of setting the greenhouse to the cooler climate of Spring, allowing her plants to start the natural process of growing.

 **oOoOoOo**

It was on a hot July day where she found herself thanking Merlin for the cooler greenhouse; the sun outside was murder and she was seeking refuge amongst her plants.

"I'm a survivor. I'm not gonna give up. I'm not gonna stop. I'm gonna work harder. I'm a survivor. I'm gonna make it. I will survive. Keep on survivin'," Hermione sang as she repotted her coriander plants into larger pots. The coriander had really spread out and bloomed in the heat outside, and it would be a wonderful addition to the tomatoes she was growing. Her plans for homemade salsa were so close to being realized.

She was wrist deep in potting soil when she heard a sharp rapping on the greenhouse glass. She let out a little scream and instinctually reached for her wand. She jumped up from her seat and backed against the wall furthest from the door, wand gripped in her soiled hands.

"Hermione?" a clear voice called out. "Hermione, it's me Neville. I'm sorry if I startled you."

Hermione shook herself, before whispering to herself. "My name is Hermione Granger. I'm twenty-one. I live in Keswick, England. I survived the Second Wizarding War," she lowered her wand, and slowed her breathing. She opened the door, and before her stood a wizard who was only remotely familiar. The face was the same, but had thinned out quite a lot. If the changes to his face weren't enough, his body which once had been soft, was now firm and well defined. Hermione couldn't take her eyes off the jeans and t-shirt that he wore, that seemed to be made for hugging him in the most delicious ways, in his hands a few books. Suddenly a whole new set of emotions were causing her body to tense.

"Neville!" Hermione exclaimed, giving him a quick hug, "I'm so sorry, you just startled me. I had no idea you knew where I lived now."

"Well Harry told me the address, saying that I should stop by sometime, and that you had recently taken up gardening. He said he knew you would appreciate having someone to talk to that shared a common interest," Neville continued, lowering his eyes, "Harry may have also mentioned that you have been struggling since the war. I'm so sorry Hermione, I should have owled first."

"No Neville, it's fine. Thank you for stopping by. I would love to be able to discuss some gardening things. Would you like to see what I have so far?"

Hermione and Neville spent the next hour going through her gardens, both in the greenhouse and outside. Neville was incredibly helpful, explaining why some plants had yellow leaves, or why some seemed to just not flourish as well. He was impressed at her charm for the weather control of the greenhouse that caused it to warm up as the season went on, allowing the plants to keep up the normal growing cycle. He had some recommendations on a different dragon fertilizer. He even gave her two books for her to read, to get her started on learning about the different types of magical plants.

"Neville, thank you so much! It was so fantastic catching up with you."

"It was a lot of fun Hermione. I've-I mean, we've all missed you so much, you know, all of us. We've missed you," Neville stammered.

"I've missed you too, we need to spend more time together. Why don't you come over for dinner sometime this week? I've just recently harvested some potatoes and would love to cook some up, if you're willing to be the poison checker with me?" Hermione laughed.

"Oh, I'll poison check it for you. That would be great, yeah that would be great," Neville said hands deep in his pockets.

"Ok well, how about tomorrow? I'm free all week."

"Tomorrow, yeah, yeah that would be fantastic!" Neville's voice loud, betraying his excitement.

 **oOoOoOo**

Her little home was set against the tree line of a small clearing within a much larger forest in Northern England. When she first started restoring the house, she had cleared some trees for a small garden off the back of her home. Her garden expanded further than she had originally planned for, and she found she needed to clear a larger area for sunlight to reach the ground, so all her plants could and Ron enjoyed felling the trees, and Hermione had to reign them in when they kept trying to go past the marked boundary trees.

Hermione set a routine for her day, it was a way for her to maintain some control. In the mornings she would take her tea out in her not-so-little-anymore garden in the back, and read a book and relax. Her cup in hand, she opened the door and walked out to her favorite chair on the little patio. It lightly rained last night, and she thanked Merlin that it had not stormed. She took a deep breath, the air was damp, but clear and cool, and began reading the book that Neville had brought her, _Magical Gardening for Britain and the Isles_.

She had just turned the first page when she heard a loud voice call out from inside her house.

Turning she saw Pansy open the door, "Hermione! There you are!"

"Hi."

"I have a huge, like, _huge_ favor to ask you!"

"Ok."

"Can you watch Teddy for me? Harry had some meeting with McGonagall. Ginny had practice, and I promised to watch him, but I just got an owl about an emergency in my ward at St. Mungo's. Ron has to leave for work, and I couldn't get ahold of Molly. Please?" Pansy pleaded.

"Of course. Where is Andy?" Hermione inquired, closing her book and standing up.

"She's sick. She's been feeling under the weather for a few weeks and Teddy has been with Harry and Ginny for just as long." Pansy followed the brunette back into her house, and walked towards the fireplace.

"Oh. I didn't know."

"Ok, I'll be right back," Pansy said before walking into the emerald flames.

10 minutes later she came back with a purple-haired four-year-old balanced on her hip.

"Ok, so everything for today should be in that bag, his stuffed dragon, drink, and snacks. Owl if you need anything," Pansy said, setting Teddy down and laying the bag on the table. "You're a lifesaver Hermione; love you," She gave the brunette a tight hug before disappearing back into the flames.

Hermione looked down at Teddy, "Why don't we build a fort in the living room and watch some old Disney movies on the telly. Does that sound like fun?"

"Yes!" Teddy squealed.

 **oOoOoOo**

Hermione stood in front of her full length mirror, moving different shirts in front of her chest, trying to figure out which one she wanted to wear. She had never been nervous around Neville before, and couldn't figure out why she suddenly had butterflies in her stomach.

"UGH!" she screamed, throwing all the shirts down on the bed. Wrapped in a towel, she threw herself down on the bed as well. "How bloody hard is it to dress yourself?" she chastised herself.

She mentally went through her wardrobe in her mind, and still came up with nothing that seemed to be the "right thing" to wear.

She was lost in her thoughts when she heard a sharp rapping on her front door. She bolted up, grabbed her wand, and rushed towards the door.

Gripping her wand tighter she opened the door quickly, only to be greeted with her date, ten minutes early.

"Oh bollocks!" she squealed, ignoring the wizard, and bolting back for her bedroom, leaving the door wide open.

Neville stood in the doorway with a bottle of elf wine and a potted fanged geranium, flabbergasted. He knew he was early, but he thought that would leave a good impression on the always punctual Hermione Granger. Instead he found a clearly disheveled, half-dressed witch. The towel that was covering her body moved just enough as she ran away to show the delicious curve of her backside. Neville swallowed deeply, before stepping inside her house.

"Hermione, I'm so, so sorry," Neville said setting the wine down on her kitchen table.

"It's fine Neville, I'm sorry. I got lost in my thoughts," Hermione called from her bedroom, where she grabbed the nearest t shirt, knickers, and jeans. Her bras were under the pile of clothes, and she would just have to worry about them later. She put her hair up into a tight pony tail before walking back into the family room. "Sorry. Just…it's been a crazy day."

"Oh? Everything ok?"

"Yeah, I needed to watch Teddy briefly today, because everyone was busy. Hence the giant blanket fort," she explained, nodding towards the couch where a massive blanket fort dominated the area.

"Very impressive," Neville smiled, "I brought you something," He picked up the plant he'd brought, that was currently purring softly. "It's a fanged geranium, a baby, and we just don't have room for him in the greenhouse. I thought maybe you could take care of it for me."

Hermione looked at the small green plant. She knew the bulb in the center, was hiding some sharp teeth that presented themselves when angry, but currently it looked peaceful and calm. "Oh Neville thank you," she gave him a hug around his waist. She hadn't noticed until that moment how tall he was, her head barely scratched his chin. She tried to ignore the tingle that went through her at making physical contact with him.

Hermione pulled away and looked into his hazel eyes. "I was going to fix a risotto, if that's ok."

"Sounds great."

"Want to help?"

"Do you really trust me?" Neville's eyebrow raised.

Hermione chuckled, "How about you help cut veggies and I'll cook?"

"I can do that."

They both set about getting dinner prepared, and kept bumping into each other in the process. Hermione turned from the stove to grab the cut mushrooms after setting the onion and garlic to cook. She bumped into Neville again, but overcorrected herself, and started to fall.

Neville's large hands gripped her tightly, and pulled her up before she hit the ground. Holding her tightly against his chest, he looked down into her bright brown eyes. "You ok?"

Hermione was breathing heavily, but it wasn't all from the fall. "Ummm hmmm." She mumbled.

Neville dipped his head slowly, watching her face the whole time. When he was an inch from her lips, she met him, and he pressed his lips hard against hers. His hand moved from her back, to entwine in her hair, and pull her head closer to his.

Hermione was standing on her tiptoes to reach him. When he pulled away slightly, trying to straighten out from the bent angle he was in, their lips unlocked. He reached underneath her bum and hoisted her up his long body. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he captured her lips once again. Her hands were roaming over his fit body, trying to feel every inch of him. His hands roamed from her arse to her chest, where he tenderly played with her tautpeaks.

They didn't pull apart till the room started smelling smoky. Their lips unlocked, and they looked at the stove to see burnt onions and garlic.

Neville chuckled, running his fingers through her curls, "You're quite the distraction. Why don't we go out to dinner instead?"

Hermione nodded, still looking at him carefully, as though she was finally seeing him clearly.

"You might want to find a bra," he smirked.

 **oOoOoOo**

It had been two months since her first date with Neville, and Hermione was currently surrounded by piles of his boxes. They had been inseparable since their first date. Neville stayed with her almost every night, and their third night had been equal parts amazing and awkward. Neville kissed every scar she had from the war. Hermione remembered the struggle of trying to fit his enormous size the first time they made love. The blood on the sheets had made them both giggle in embarrassment. He held her close and soothed her through a storm that had showed up halfway through the night.

It turned out that Neville managed to keep most of the darkness away. Still she found herself startled by large noises, and gripping her wand tightly when she was around people she didn't know.

When an episode would overtake her mind, Neville was there with tender hands and comforting words, trying to bring her back to reality. Afterwards he would soothe her tears and hold her close while she breathed in his earthy scent that helped ground her.

"Harry can you help with this box?" Hermione called.

"Yeah, be right there," she heard her best friend call from outside.

Hermione jumped slightly when she felt hands wrap around her, and a kiss being planted on her neck, but Neville's scent helped steady her racing heart.

"You ok?" he asked softly.

Turning in his arms she looked up at him, "Of course."

"This isn't too much change?"

"No, if you remember I was the one who asked you to move in," she smiled.

"I know, I just want to make sure you're ok," Neville explained seriously.

"I'm perfect. Let's just get you moved in."

 **oOoOoOo**

Later that night, as Hermione straddled his hips, he leaned against the headboard. He slipped inside of her, her hips began moving slightly. He looked at her seriously, "Are you happy?"

Looking deeply into his hazel eyes, she nodded, "Completely, perfectly, and incandescently happy." She smirked.

"Quoting Elizabeth Bennett from that Muggle movie?"

"It perfectly describes the situation." She said moving up and sinking back down, drawing a groan from both of them.

His fingers of one hand were slightly pinching her tender peak, while his other hand held her hip, aiding her in her motions.

"Some days this feels like a fairytale, just being with you, loving you. You were my first friend." She said kissing him softly. "But I'm too old to believe in fairytales."

He leaned back from her, "No one is too old for fairytales." He murmured before capturing her lips again.


End file.
